


Snow Day

by gloria_andrews



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloria_andrews/pseuds/gloria_andrews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson have worked at the same sandwich shop for about a month now and Harry has had a crush on Louis the whole time.  Now they're closing the shop together and it's snowing like crazy!!! Will they have to stay there alone overnight??? Does Louis feel the same way about Harry??</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Day

**Author's Note:**

> While reading this fic it might be helpful to know just a little bit about the movie The Prince and Me, starring Julia Stiles and Luke Mably, if you are not already familiar. I mean, Harry and Louis just talk about it a little. 
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Prince_and_Me
> 
> I made a very minimal effort to attempt to make them sound British this time, because really I was picturing them in Wisconsin in my head, due to the weather problems. Sorry about that. 
> 
> Thank you to RAOTS for being the best in general. 
> 
> Feedback appreciated!!!! I hope someone reads it.

“Are you closing tonight?” Louis’s voice was bright and raspy, zipping down Harry’s spine, making him startle and give an embarrassing little yip, his heart leaping.

“Hmm?” Harry said, swallowing, wide eyed. He’d been sweeping the front of the shop and now he leaned his bodyweight on the broom, resting his cheek against the wood of its handle. “Oh, Uh. Yep.” He cleared his throat, “Yes. I am. Are-are you?” he asked.

Louis smiled at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His face was attractively pink from exposure to the cold. “Uh-huh. Dibs on closing the line.” He said, smirking as he tugged off the beanie he’d been wearing and wiped at the layer of snow that was melting into the wool of his coat. He continued to look at Harry with an amused challenge in his eyes as he slipped behind the counter, hanging the coat on a peg on the wall. Everyone knew Harry preferred to close the line. He always closed line! He had a specific and highly efficient process for doing so! Plus, everyone also knew, he hated doing the dishes. The stupid industrial strength soap irritated his hands, it dried them out and sometimes made them crack and bleed. Especially during the winter.

Harry wanted to play it cool and act like he didn’t care, like it didn’t matter to him one way or the other, he could do the front, no biggie, no worries, as long as he didn’t have to do the dishes! But before he could stop himself he made a noise of complaint instead, and then blushed furiously because it came out high and squeaky and much too eager.  Because that’s how Harry always was, when it came to Louis, overeager.  He felt so maddeningly transparent when it came to interacting with him, so clearly keen to flirt, but always executing it so awkwardly.  Harry was usually pretty socially capable, he’d even been called charming more than once in his life, but something about the strength of his attraction to Louis always seemed to make him feel slightly off balance, off kilter, like his brain couldn’t get out of first gear. Louis had transferred from the other Wickham’s, at one of the strip malls on the edge of town, to this one, on Elk Street in the city, right by campus, about a month before. Harry still couldn’t quite get a handle on being around him. Ever since he’d first seen the blue flash of Louis’s eyes, Harry had been a goner.

“Well, Tab can do the dishes then,” Harry finally got out, with a shrug, resuming his haphazard sweeping. “I can do the front.”

He heard a bell like peel of laughter come from the opposite end of the counter, where Tab stood waiting to prepare sandwiches for any new costumers. “No way in hell am I letting you do the front, Hazza.” She said, “It’s basically just like letting you go on break any time you sweep.”

Harry frowned and looked at the floor around him, biting his lip as he realized that he had indeed been doing a rather ineffectual job.

Louis’s laughter joined Tab’s as he clocked in at the cash register, adjusting his Wickham’s Sandwiches cap on his head. “I’m just teasing, Harry.” He said as he secured his apron around his distractingly small waist. “It would take twice as long if I did the line, you’ve got it down to a science.”

Wickham’s closed at 8pm, but before they could leave they had to sweep and mop the small dining room in the front and put up all the chairs.  They had to clean out each workstation on the line, sandwiches, salads, and shakes, and then sweep and mop the floors back there, too. They also had to deal with all the dishes that had built up over the course of the evening, the empty salad bins, the soup cauldrons, all the knives. If it was a busy night the whole process could take over and hour and a half, because they’d barely be able to get started before close.  If you had an experienced team and a slow night, you could sometimes get it done in 45 minutes.  (Harry and Zayn and Niall had done it in 28 once, but it had been a perfect storm of circumstances that was likely never to be repeated.  They’d all celebrated by going out and getting fairly intoxicated afterward.)  Anyway, this particular day was very slow.  It had started to snow around 2:30. It was four o’clock now and it still wasn’t letting up, coming down fast in big wet flakes.  The wind had picked up over the last half hour and was whipping up the street, driving the snow at an angle, Harry didn’t expect too may kids to come trudging over from the dorms.  The shop was already pretty much deserted, save the old man in the corner who was dribbling chili down his shirt while reading The New Yorker.

“It’s pretty bad out, huh?” Harry asked Louis, as he guided the scant debris he had managed to collect into the dustpan.  He rolled his eyes at himself, _talking about the weather, for crying out loud._ Then he thought, _well, at least it's unusual weather._

 __And Louis didn’t seem mind, his eyes wide, “Uh, yeah, pretty fucking bad.”

Tab glared at him from down the line, and he winced and made an apology face about the swearing.

“But really, though.” Louis continued, opening up the salad station and stealing a grape tomato. “I live like three blocks away and it took me 15 minutes to walk here. The drifts are getting ridiculous. The roads already look like crap.”

“How much is it supposed to snow?” Harry asked, glancing up at Tab, feeling a little worried. It wasn’t a big deal for him or Louis if it snowed 6” or even a foot, they lived nearby, but Tab had to drive across town and she had a kid.

Just as he asked, he heard the stereo speakers crackle as Tab switched it over to the radio, moving the scanner around until she found a station. For awhile there were just bits of local news, but the there was an weather bulletin alert noise, and a mechanical female voice informed them that there was a snow advisory in effect until the middle of the night and that 12-16” of snow were forecast. The drifting was supposed to get pretty bad.  Tab’s eyes got bigger and bigger as the bulletin went on.

Harry had come around to the back of the line to put his broom and dustpan away and was listening next to her, leaning against the back counter and staring down at his feet.   

“You should just go home now,” Louis said, walking over from the cash register, the concern on his face tipping him toward handsome rather than his usual pretty.  Harry’s head snapped up, looking at Tab questioningly, embarrassed by how fast his heart was beating at the prospect of closing alone with Louis. _You should not be getting excited about potentially dangerous weather conditions._ He chided himself.

“I mean, probably call Marcus first,” Louis continued, he took his cap off and tossed it onto a counter, running a hand through his hair, then gesturing to the nearly empty dining room, “But I think Harry and I can handle this, don’t you, Haz?”

Harry nodded.

Tab bit her lip, looking out the window, she nodded too. She turned to go to the back, presumably to use the phone, “You know,” She said, over her shoulder, rolling her eyes as she pushed on the swinging door, “It’s bad enough out that we should probably just close early, anyway, but you know Marcus would never allow that.” Marcus was the store manager, and he was a dick.

Louis snorted and rolled his eyes too, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m willing to bet that most of the other places on the street will close early, for sure.”

Harry nodded in silent agreement. He started stacking up empty third pans from the sandwich toppings station to take back to the sink, so they could be washed later. It being as slow as it was, with the weather this bad, they could probably get the vast majority of the dishes done before eight. Even though it would just be the two of them if Tab left, they’d probably still be able to finish up relatively early. Harry was about to make a comment about it to Louis, suggest he start tidying up the shakes station, but when he glanced over at the other boy he saw that Louis was leaning against the back counter, gazing out the large front windows at the falling snow with a faraway look in his eyes and a half smile on his face and the sight of him struck Harry right in the heart, his words dying in his throat.  He wanted to reach out and brush Louis’s light brown hair off his forehead, stand in front of him and tilt his chin up, and kiss him slowly on his small pink lips. Instead, he swallowed a sigh and shook his head slightly before pushing the door at the end of the line open with his shoulder, twirling awkwardly into the back of the shop with his stack of dirty pans.  He set them down at the side of the cluttered sink and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. God, he needed to get a grip.  He’d never felt this way before.

Louis was still standing idly, watching the snow, when Harry reemerged from the back few minutes later. “Did you ever do that thing when you were a kid?” he asked, turning to Harry with a smile in his eyes.  God, the way Louis sometimes looked at him, it only made it worse. It made Harry sometimes feel like they were on the verge of something, getting ever closer to it, like maybe it wasn’t just him. But the moments were always fleeting, too quick to pin down, and somehow it all just made Harry feel more unsettled and unsure, possibly crazy.

“What thing?” Harry asked, blushing at his inability to maintain eye contact. He had quickly averted his eyes so he could peer around the dining room. Chili Dribbler was still there, still the only customer.

“That thing where like, you heard that it might to snow or whatever, so you thought maybe school would be canceled. But you didn’t want to jinx it, so instead of, you know, actively hoping for it out loud you’d be like ‘oh school won’t be canceled, no used in getting our hopes up’, but secretly you were obviously thinking and hoping it would be.”

Harry laughed, nodding, “like reverse psychology on the weather, almost?”

Louis laughed too, his eye twinkling, “Yeah, kind of.  Or on the situation at least.  Like if you said it out loud it would never happen? You had to pretend you didn’t care.”

“Even though in your heart you thought there was definitely a chance, and you cared a whole lot?” Harry finished, chuckling, “Yes, yes, I definitely did that,” he said, and he actually had.

“Good, wanted to make sure it wasn’t just me.” Louis said, smiling, still gazing out at the snow, and Harry wanted to stare at Louis for hours, imprint everything about him on his mind. The dark fringe of his eyelashes, the angle of his cheekbones, the shape of the shell of his ear. Harry didn’t know how to explain it. It was like Louis’s face was so aesthetically pleasing that it actually made Harry’s eyes feel good when he looked at him, like the visual processing center of his brain was as happy as it could possibly be.

“Probably wouldn’t even need to use that method tonight, though, huh?” Harry said, leaning against the counter to join Louis in watching the falling snow.

Louis laughed, “No, I think you’re right, it’s in the bag.”

They stood together for another minute, watching it come down and then Harry said, “It’s kind of nice, isn’t it? That snow days actually happen.”

Louis nodded next to him.  “Yeah…”

“It makes the world seem better.” They said at the same time and Louis gave a pleased little laugh under his breath. Harry felt the hair on his arms stand up, his pulse beating in his ears, he liked Louis Tomlinson so much it was hurting his skin.

“Ok, boys.” Tab said, as she came banging out of the back of the shop.  She had her purse over her shoulder, and she walked quickly down the line to retrieve her coat. “Marcus gave me the ok to go, so I’m going to head out. Sorry to leave you short handed.” She squashed a knit hat on over her unruly red hair and wound a green scarf around her head. “Thank you so much.”

“S’ok. It’s so slow.” Harry said, wringing his hands. “Let us know when you get home.”

“I will.” She said, her voice muffled under the scarf, she nodded for emphasis, almost to the door.

“I mean, really do it, please.” Harry said, his concern clear in his voice, “I always say I’ll do that kind of thing to my mother and then I forget.”

Tab laughed and yanked the scarf down so she could speak properly, “I promise I will call you when I get home, Hazza. Happy?”

Harry nodded, feeling a little sheepish, but placated.

Tab shook her head and smiled at him.

“What?” Harry asked.

“You’ll only get mad if I say.”

“Oh now I definitely want to know,” Louis piped up, over his shoulder, he’d finally turned his attention to the shake station and was polishing the chrome on the back of the mixers.

She smiled, her eyes twinkling, “Harry’s such a sweetheart, is all.  We don’t deserve him.”

Harry made a half tutting/half groaning noise, and rolled his eyes, tossing his head back in exasperation, his cheeks hot.

Louis raised his eyebrows in delight, nodding in agreement.  Harry chose to pretend that part wasn’t happening.

“See, told you,” Tab said laughing, covering her face back up with the scarf, “Thanks again, boys. See you later.”

“Bye Tab.” Louis said, brightly.

“Good-bye, Tabitha,” Harry grumped, drawing another giggle from Tab as she left the shop.

“Tab is great.” Louis said, coming up to stand next to Harry as they watched her struggle up the street to the parking garage.

“Yeah she is,” Harry agreed, “She really is.” 

Chili Dribbler was packing up his things now, absentmindedly brushing at the splotches on his shirt and tucking his New Yorker into his satchel. It would just be Harry and Louis now, all by themselves. Harry’s heart fluttered at the thought, and he looked out at the snow, swirling in the street.  Maybe he didn’t want them to close overly quickly after all.

           

About an hour later, the snow was coming down harder than ever, and Harry was increasingly worried about Tab, driving home in the storm. She hadn’t called yet, and he was getting more and more anxious as the minutes went by. They hadn’t had a single customer since Chili Dribbler shuffled out, and Harry had the line almost completely shut down, even thought it was only quarter of six. He knew it was only quarter of six because he’d just glanced up at the clock on the wall behind the cash register for the fifth time in as many minutes.  He started chewing on his thumbnail.  

“I’m sure she’s alright, Haz,” Louis said, from the dining room.  He was in the process of wiping down all of the tables, and he stopped when he saw the expression on Harry’s face, standing up and crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s been an hour,” Harry said, feeling sick to his stomach.

“How long’s the drive, normally?” Louis asked.

“I dunno,” Harry said, “A half hour, tops?”

Louis nodded and shrugged, “Well, it’s perfectly reasonable given the weather that it could take more than twice as long.” 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed weakly.

“Or maybe she forgot to call, like you said she would,” Louis said, smiling reassuringly.

Harry laughed feebly and scrubbed his hands over his face. Louis had approached the sandwich making station now, resting his forearms and chin on the high counter in front of it, monitoring Harry with a concerned look on his face.

“Yeah,” Harry said again, this time with a little more conviction. “I hope so.”

“Me too,” Louis said, he was looking at Harry with such a soft look in his eyes. Harry felt a shiver run through him, a tug of longing.

“She’s right, you know.” Louis said, a little bit of mischief creeping into the softness of voice.

Harry raised his brows in question, his eyes wide.

“About you being a sweetheart.” Louis said, simply. He was smiling casually, looking right at Harry, like what he was saying was no big deal.  Like Harry wasn’t blushing bright red and squirming from it, his heartbeat at a gallop, skin tingling from Louis words. “You are.” Louis finished, with a quiet laugh, he shook his head almost imperceptibly, about what, Harry wasn’t sure. Harry just stood there, fidgeting and fussing with his fringe, unable to speak. He could sense that Louis’s eyes were still moving across his face and up and down his body and it was making him feel strangely suspended in time, sort of pinned in place by Louis’s gaze.  If Louis didn’t stop looking at him soon, Harry’s body might just give out from the tension, but if Louis did stop looking at him, it might give out just from the relief it, anyway.

“I know what we should do, to take our minds off of it.” Louis said, finally breaking the silence and easing Harry’s torment to a slightly more manageable level.

“What?” Harry said, hoping Louis couldn’t tell he was somewhat breathless, a bit dizzy, his pulse was still beating in his cheeks.

“Let’s put some real tunes on.” Louis said, nodding up to the stereo above the back counter.  After they listened to the weather update they’d had to switch back over to one of Marcus’s pre-approved playlists.  That’s all they were ever allowed to play. The music wasn’t bad, really, it was just that it was the same 150 or so songs. Over and over again. Every time you worked. Harry felt like Marcus owned him big time for kind of ruining Cat Stevens for him, maybe forever. 

Louis pulled his phone out of his back pocket and handed it to Harry over the counter. “Marcus can suck it.” Louis said, smiling. “We should get to listen to whatever we want ‘cause we’re working during the storm.”

“What’s—?” Harry started.

“Oh, passcode’s 1878.” Louis said, then he surprised Harry by saying, “Put on the Frank Sinatra, please.” His eyes were twinkling again. He shrugged, scrunching up his face, “I like the idea of it, with the snow. Don’t know why.”

Harry nodded and hooked the phone up to the auxiliary cord wordlessly.

“Put it on shuffle.” Harry obliged him again.

The opening horn notes of _I Get a Kick Out of You_ came drifting out of the stereo, and Louis danced backward into the dining room, still clutching the rag he’d be been wiping the tables with and snapping the fingers on his right hand in time to the music. He started cleaning tables again, doing a rather cursory job because of all the spinning around that he was incorporating in his dancing.  Harry tried to return his attention to finishing with closing up the salad station, but his eyes kept tracking Louis as he moved around the room.  It was so nice, watching Louis’s body in motion, Harry was entranced by his compact little figure, by the way his apron flared out as he spun, and by the way he still managed to be graceful even while dance-cleaning haphazardly. Louis looked like a dork, but it was clear that he was quite athletic.  Both of these things just made Harry want him even more. Louis threw the rag onto another table and danced around in front of it for a second before wiping it down and Harry accidentally burst out laughing, struck by a thought.

“What?” Louis said, his head whipping around to look back at Harry.

Harry brought his hand up to his brow, covering his eyes, “Nothing. It’s just.” He felt himself blush for the umpteenth time that night, “You just reminded me—“ he laughed more, embarrassed, “You suddenly reminded me of Julia Stiles in that one movie.” He shook his head, “it’s stupid.”

“Julia Stiles?” Louis said, amusement clear in his voice. He was smiling, advancing toward the counter again.

Harry nodded, biting his lip over a smile.

“What movie?”

“Um, that one movie. With the prince. And the tractor racing. And the butterfly.” Harry said, with a shrug.

“I think you know the name,” Louis said, a shrewd look in his eye.

Harry rolled his eyes, and shrugged again, “Yeah. Whatever. The Prince and Me.” He conceded.

Louis nodded triumphantly, his eyes lighting up, “Aha! I knew it! So if I’m Julia, that means you.” He pointed his charmingly small index finger at Harry, “are the prince!”

Harry made a snorting noise of objection. But his insides hurt a little, adrenaline coursing through his veins, because this really did feel like flirting, at least to him.

“Prince Harry.” Louis said, dancing back away from the counter as a _Fly Me to the Moon_ came on.

“His name was Edvard,” Harry said.

Louis shot him a look, “You want me to call you Edvard?”

Harry started laughing, shaking his head no.

“Come dance with me, your highness,” Louis said, beckoning him out to the dining room.

Harry shifted nervously, his palms already coated in sweat, he could just see himself standing awkwardly out there, too self-conscious to move, while Louis danced easily around the room,  “I really—I really should probably get started on the dishes.” He mumbled.

Louis shot him another look down his nose, “I shall resume my studies as a pre-med major and forget all about you, if you refuse, your majesty.” He said primly.

Harry blinked at him, still struggling not to smile and failing miserably.

“Come on, Haz, we’re way ahead of schedule,” Louis said, pausing his movements to look Harry right in the eye, his tone softer, “I’ll lead.”

Harry felt is breath catch slightly, his heart rabbiting in his chest at the realization the Louis might actually want to _dance with him_ dance with him.  Not just like, move his body around in the same vicinity as Harry’s, but like essentially hold Harry in his arms. In his strong looking golden arms.  _He’s just kidding around. He just wants to have fun. Dancing is fun.  Louis is just fun._ Harry thought, swallowing thickly, trying to calm himself down, _Don’t go getting any ideas. People just flirt for fun, weirdo._ Louis looked so gorgeous, standing in the dimly lit dining area, backlit by the glow of the snow, his hair a perfect mess.  His head was canted to the side as he waited for Harry’s response. And of course Harry really did want to dance with Louis, he wanted to so badly that his hands were tingly and trembling slightly.

He rolled his eyes, “Fiiiiiine.” He groaned at last, as if he were doing Louis such an incredible favor.

“Excellent!” Louis said, his whole face lighting up with a smile. He had those crinkles by his eyes again, that Harry liked so much.

Harry came around from the back of the counter, managing to clip not one, but two tables with his hips as he made his way to Louis.  If Louis noticed the state of Harry’s nerves he gave no sign of it, which Harry was thankful for.  Louis extended his left hand to Harry.

“Edvard,” Louis intoned, bowing and ducking his head in mock formality, as Harry took it.

“Shut up, Julia.” Harry croaked out, his throat going dry as Louis’s other hand snaked around to the small of his back, pulling him in close. It felt like his heart was beating with such insistent force that Louis might actually be able to see it pulsing in his stomach and chest, even in his arms and at his throat. Harry had to remind himself to breathe. Louis, on the other hand, seemed completely fine. He smiled up at Harry through the fringe of his eyelashes, “Ready?” he asked.

Harry nodded, and then Louis began to lead them in a turn about the room as _The Best is Yet to Come_ played over the speakers.  It was slightly awkward at first, because of the irregular grid of tables they had to navigate, but Louis maneuvered them to the more open space in front of the soda fountain and kept them there.  Every so often he made Harry do a spin, giggling at how Harry had to hunch over to fit under his arm and then laughing as he pressed their bodies together in a way that made Harry feel light headed.

“Julia’s not the character name, you know.” Louis said, looking up at Harry after a little while, a bit of a challenge in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Harry said, trying to sound relaxed, even though all he could think about was how warm and small and perfect Louis’s hand felt in his, and how all he wanted to do was drop his head down and kiss up the soft side of Louis’s neck to his ear. “Yeah, I know.”

“Well, do you know what it is, then?”

“Her character’s name?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh-huh,” Harry said, “Do you?”

“Yes,” Louis said. He paused, “Do you believe me?” He asked, still looking right into Harry’s eyes.

Harry bit his lip, taking a second to contemplate, “Yes. I do.”

Louis smiled widely at that, “See? See what a sweetheart you are?” He said, teasingly, “Because I definitely don’t believe you at all. Not one bit.”

“What?” Harry said in a squawk of outrage, “I do too know! I know what it is!”

“Nope, no way,” Louis said, laughing. “Prove it.”

“How?”

“We’ll say on three.” Louis said with a shrug.  And the movement of his shrug drew Harry’s attention to the fact that although _The Way You Look Tonight_ was filtering into the room, they weren’t dancing anymore, they’d stopped somewhere along the way, somewhere in the midst of bickering. Now they were just standing in the dining room in each others arms, teasing each other about this stupid movie and Harry thought it was maybe the most wonderful that had ever happened.

“No way am I falling for that one.” Harry said with a snort, Louis looked pleased at his response.

“Are you questioning my honor, sir?” He asked, his lips twitching.

Harry gave him a look of utter disbelief, throwing the hand that had been resting on Louis’s shoulder into the air in exasperation, “You’re the one who accused me of outright lying!” He said, quickly dropping his hand back down to where it had been, not wanting to lose contact.

Louis just shrugged again, as if maybe Harry had a point.

“And if I’m suuuuuch a sweetheart, why would I lie to you, huh?” Harry continued, bugging his eyes out and jostling Louis’s body with one of his knees, “Since when are sweethearts liars?”

Louis started to laugh as if he couldn’t believe his own ridiculousness, his body shaking with it under Harry’s hand, “Your pride momentarily interfered with your sweethearthood. It happens. I sensed it.”

“You are completely absurd.” Harry said, he was grinning down at Louis, feeling happy to the point of giddiness, like his heart had grown too big for his rib cage. Louis nodded up at him, a proud little smirk on his face, his eyes dancing. And then Harry readjusted his grip on Louis’s left hand, tightening it just a shade, and he saw Louis’s lips part and his breath stutter ever so slightly in response, and suddenly things didn’t seem quite so funny anymore. Suddenly all that Harry was aware of was the slick pinkness of Louis’s bottom lip, of the way his pupils had almost swallowed up the blue of his eyes, of every point at which their bodies were touching and how their chests were rising and falling in unison, their breath coming deep.

Louis’s right hand had been resting on Harry waist, and he lifted it up to brush a curl off Harry’s forehead, Harry shivering at the touch.

“Harry,” Louis whispered, barely audibly, leaning his weight forward on his tiptoes, a small smile on his face and a faint blush staining his cheeks.  His hand slipped around to the back of Harry’s neck, fingers threading into his hair.

And just as Harry thought that his knees were going to give out, just as he was about to melt right into Louis, that is when the phone rang. Loud and shrill, from the back of the shop, making them both jump in surprise.

“Tab!” Harry said, after a beat, scrambling around the counter and scurrying down the line, his heart still pounding, “I hope it’s Tab.  I hope she made it home.”

He practically crashed into little nook with the desk that had the phone on it, skidding to a stop and yanking it out of the cradle, “Hello” He said, his voice breathless and urgent. 

He heard the sound of Tab’s laughter on the other end of the line.

“Are you alright, Harry?” She asked.

“What?” He said, still working to catch his breath, “Yes. I’m fine. Are you? Are you home? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, I’m home.” She said, “Everything is fine.” He could hear the rustling of her hair as she shook her head, “The roads are terrible though. It was sort of a nightmare. We were moving at a crawl the whole way. I should have texted.  I could have, we were moving so slow.”

“It’s fine,” Harry said, breathing out a sigh of relief. “I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“Me too.” She said, “Thanks for closing without me.”

“It’s—it’s no problem,” Harry said, clearing his throat, a thrill running through him as he thought of Louis’s fingers curling into his hair moments before.

“Yeah,” Tab said, a little laughter in her voice, “I’m sure it’s not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he squeaked, his cheeks heating up, feeling utterly transparent.

“Nothing,” She said, clearly amused, “Tell Louis I said thank you, again, ok?”

“I will.”

“Ok, Talk to you later. Be careful walking home, alright?”

“mhmmm.”

“Bye, Haz.”

“Bye.” Harry said, hanging up the phone.

“What’d she say?” Harry startled at Louis’s voice behind him.

“Just that the roads were terrible,” Harry said, turning around, looking everywhere but Louis’s face, “And thank you for closing without her.”

Louis laughed, “Well it’s not going to be too difficult with absolutely no customers, huh?”

Harry shook his head.

“I put up the chairs in the dining room,” Louis said.

“What? Louis!” Harry said, marching out to the front, as if he needed to see it to believe it, “It’s not even 6:30!”

Louis trailed behind him, “No one is coming, Haz.”

Harry bit his lip, “They might.” He said quietly, looking out into the dining room, wringing his hands, “The might.”

Louis laughed, “You don’t like to break the rules, do you?” he asked, coming up next to Harry, edging into his personal space just a bit.

Harry made a face, but didn’t deny it, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as Louis came closer.

“I didn’t think so,” Louis said, his voice teasing. “But remember, the booths are always available, for any morons who might be braving the storm.” He gestured out to the three booths in the dining room, up against the windows. “And if any of those morons actually do show up, you can feel free to blame me for the less than welcoming state of the dining room.”

“okaaaaay, I guess,” Harry said, reluctantly.  He knew he was feeling needlessly uneasy about closing up early. No one was coming. _Really_. No one was coming.  He could tell just by looking out the window at the snow in the wind. It looked brutal out, almost scary. Marcus would never find out. Right? Right. _I am such a nerd._ He thought.

“You are such a nerd,” Louis said, but he was smiling and he said it like it was his favorite thing ever.

“What?” Harry said, in an affronted tone, even though Louis had basically just read his mind.  He was all blush-y again from the openly affectionate look on Louis’s face. “I am not!”

“Yep, yep,” Louis said, nodding, lifting up the hood of the salad station and stealing another grape tomato. Harry had already covered them in saran wrap and would just have to redo it later, “You are. I bet you hate being late too, huh?”

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to be punctual,” Harry said, making a fussy little face and gesturing with his palms toward the ceiling, “that’s just basic consideration for other people’s time.” He scooted down the line to check and make sure he’d properly closed the shake station. Louis followed him, leaning against the counter by the cash register and watching Harry top off the canister of malt powder. It made Harry a little jumpy, having Louis’s eyes on him, his nerves were still all jangly from earlier.

“I actually agree with you.” Louis said, conversationally, he was playing with the little toy car Tab kept by the register. “About being late. I hate it.”

Harry turned to the ice cream case opposite the shake station and opened it up, bending inside so he could wipe it down.

“You know what’s worse than being late though?” Louis asked.

“What?”

“When you’re with a slow poke dawdler and they keep making you think you’re going to be late, so you get all worked up about it and have to hurry them along.  And then when you actually get where you’re going, you’re right on time, you aren’t really late. So you had allllll the stress of being late, but then you don’t even get to say I told you so. ‘See, I told you we’d be late!’ You don’t get to say it.”

Harry started to laughing, bumping his head lightly on the top of the ice cream case as he emerged to respond to Louis. “So you’d rather be right and late, than be wrong and on time?” He asked, truly amused.

Louis was laughing and nodding, “Yeah, I guess I would.” He said with a shrug, he made a face like it was the obvious answer,  “What’s better than being right, though, really? I love it.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, delighted by this information, “Well, you were wrong earlier,” he said, a tad smug, biting the inside of his lip against a little smile.  

“About what?” Louis said slowly, his hand stilling on the toy car.  Louis’s eyes narrowed and Harry saw a flash of insecurity flicker through them. It was like a depth charge of hope and adrenaline had gone off inside of him as he realized what Louis was possibly thinking. That Louis might be afraid that Harry was referring to before, when they’d almost maybe nearly kissed, that maybe Harry was suggesting that Louis had been wrong in that moment, that he’d misread Harry and the situation, when really Louis had no idea just how right he had been. Harry’s heart was absolutely racing. If he were braver, he’d have kissed Louis right then and there. He’d have hoisted him up onto the counter and stood between his legs and just kissed away the worry.  But he wasn’t that brave, not yet. So instead he quickly said, “About—about the name, about me not knowing the name of the character…I do.”

“Ah,” Louis said, the almost undetectable tension in his shoulders dissolving, the sparkle reappearing in his eye, “You’ve yet to prove it.” He said.

“And why do I have to be the prover?” Harry asked, shutting the ice cream case, tossing his rag onto the back counter and crossing his arm over his chest, “You’ve yet to prove anything either.”

“Well, I know my own mind,” Louis said simply.

“Well, _I_ know mine.” Harry retorted, his eyes wide.

 The stood there smiling at each other, pointedly maintaining eye contact, when the phone rang again.

“Are you gonna get that?” Harry asked, after the first ring, still looking into Louis’s eyes, “It’s probably Marcus.”

Louis nodded, not breaking eye contact either, “Yeah, it probably is.” He put a hand on his hip, “Why can’t you get it?”

Harry snorted, “I can’t leave you out here alone with your phone! You’ll cheat and go directly to imdb.” He said.

“You just came up with that idea for yourself!” Louis accused.

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Fine, we’ll answer it together.” Harry said, shoving Louis toward the back of the shop, relishing the way Louis initially resisted slightly, leaning back into Harry’s hand.

“Fine!” Louis said, abandoning resistance and marching down the line. He strong armed the swinging door open and then quickly picked up the phone.

“Wickham’s on Elk, how may I help you?” He said properly, he leaned forward and propped his elbow up on the desk, resting his chin in his hand. Harry tried to resist the urge to ogle Louis’s ass, but it was difficult. He hoisted himself up onto the deep freeze and forced himself to stare at the stack of dishes instead.

“Oh, hi Marcus… yep…yep…no, don’t worry…of course…oh. Ok. Yeah. Ohhhh ok. Yeah, we’ll try. There’s not much, anyway.  Ok, no. yeah, we’ll do it.” He looked over his shoulder, back at Harry and made a face, then mimed shooting himself in the head. Harry gave a loud snort of laughter and then clapped his hands over his mouth.

“What? No, Harry’s out on the line.” Louis said, shooting Harry a disapproving look, even though there was laughter in his eyes. “Yeah. Ok. Have a nice night. Ok. Yep. Bye.”

“Well!” Louis said, turning to Harry, “Wickham’s is closed tomorrow. But not tonight, of course.” He rubbed his hand over his face and made a groaning noise, “and because of that, Marcus wants us to make sure to take the garbage out before we go, since no one will be here to do it in the morning.”

“What?” Harry gave a laugh of disbelief. Normally, at the end of the night, they stacked up all the trash by the back door, and the employees on opening shift the next day brought it out to the dumpster, which was half a block up the street in a creepy alleyway. They weren’t supposed to go there after dark, as a general rule. 

“That’s into the wind,” Harry pointed out quietly, his voice glum.

Louis laughed ruefully, shaking his head, “Yeah, I know. There’s barely any trash anyway, which I told him, but he didn’t care.” He shrugged, “At least it’ll only be one trip. And it’s with the wind on the way back.”

“I’ll do it.” Harry said, jumping down off the freezer.

“No,” Louis said, “I probably should.”

“What? Why?” Harry asked, “I’m bigger,” He pointed out, “You might blow away.”

Louis scoffed and scowled up at him, looking a like a disgruntled little hedgehog.  Harry felt incredibly endeared.

 “No, you’re taller, not bigger” Louis said, gesturing up and down the length of Harry’s body, “You’re like a beanstalk or beanpole or whatever, that’s terrible for walking in the wind.” He pressed a little hand to his chest, “ _I_ have a lower center of gravity, I should do it.”

Harry chewed on the inside of his lip. That was actually a good point.

“So it’s settled,” Louis said, looking triumphant, when Harry had no rebuttal.

“I guess.” Harry said, “But let’s get everything else all finished up first, right?”

Louis nodded, “I’ll sweep,” he said, “You mop. We’ll do the dishes last.”

Harry nodded.

“You can dry,” Louis said, smiling.

Harry smiled back, “Thanks.” He said, and they set to work.

 

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Louis was bundling himself up for the trip out to the dumpster.  They had cleaned the floors and covered them in pieces of cardboard boxes, so they didn’t get dirty when they kept walking around, and had nearly finished up the dishes. Louis had decided he didn’t want to wait any longer, it was almost time to close anyway. He was stuffing his hands into Harry’s mittens as Harry looked out the front window, his fingers at his lips, lost in thought.  The wind had only picked up as the night went on, howling and making Wickham’s awning flap like crazy.  The snow was still coming down so heavy that Harry could barely make out the shops on the other side of the street.

“Louis,” he said suddenly.

“Uh huh?” Louis said, winding both of their scarves around his head.

“How are we going to get home?” Harry asked, turning to face him, voicing the worry that had been building inside of him since Marcus had called to tell them about taking out the garbage. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d even seen the lights flicker once or twice while they were doing the floors. “I mean, I’m—I’m kind of scared about you going out there at all…” He said, scratching at his eyebrow. He knew he must look pathetic, he felt a little ill from nerves. Louis was wearing both of their jackets, and he looked ridiculously little and all roly-poly at the same time.  Harry wanted to hug him like a teddy bear and make him promise not to leave.

He heard Louis take a deep breath, he must have seen how truly worried Harry was, because he didn’t tease, at least not at first, “Haz,” He said, stopping his progress with the scarves, he looked Harry right in the eye, “I promise if I get out there and it’s too much and it’s not worth it, I’ll come right back, ok?”

Harry nodded, still mildly nauseous from anxiety, “What about—?”

He put a mittened hand on Harry’s forearm, “If it’s really terrible out, we’ll just stay here over night, alright?  I’ll take the couch, you can sleep on some of the cardboard.”

“ _Louis_.” Harry chided, rolling his eyes, but he did feel reassured.

“It’ll be ok,” Louis said, winding the scarves the rest of the way around his head. “Now, hand me my trash, my liege.” He said, the sound of his voice slightly muffled by all the wool, “And don’t even think about doing any internet based research on Julia Stiles movies while I’m gone.”

Harry rolled his eyes again, like there was any way he was going to move from that very spot until Louis got back. He handed Louis the two full bags of trash, which Louis threw over his right shoulder.

Louis looked back at him one last time, just his blue blue eyes visible between the scarves and his knit hat, they were crinkling at the corners again.  He raised his eyebrows at Harry and then yanked open the side door to the store and disappeared out into the night.

No more than 30 seconds later Louis came bursting back into the shop like some kind of Tasmanian devil of snow and garbage.

“I lost one of them!” He shouted, frantic, bouncing off Harry as he came flying in the door. “I lost one! I lost one!” He was only clutching one bag now, presumably having lost the other in the wind. It must have torn open, because there were bits of lettuce, and tomato slices, and what looked like Italian seasoning, in addition to snow, all over Louis’s coat and his eyes were wide and wild and fringed with snowflakes and it suddenly seemed to Harry like the funniest thing he’d ever seen. Especially with Louis’s overdramatic statements about losing one of the trash bags, as if it were a fallen comrade, not a plastic bag full of day old bread and spoiled vegetables.  Harry doubled over in silent laughter as Louis struggled to catch his breath next to him, his chest heaving under his many layers of insulation.

“Are you—?” Louis panted, after a minute, pulling the scarves down under his chin, “Are you laughing at me, Styles?” He asked, tone scandalized.

Harry was not capable of responding at that point. He just silently shook his head no, even though his shoulders continued to shake. 

“You are! Aren’t you?!” Louis scolded, crowding into Harry and poking at his stomach, “Un-be-live-able! I risk life and limb going outside, and this is the thanks I get?”

“I’m sorry, but—I lost one! I lost one!” Harry finally choked out, shaking his head, his impression of Louis quite poor because of his continued laughter problem. 

“Well,” Louis said, crowding in even closer, his bundled up belly bumping Harry’s hip, “Let’s see how you feel when your favorite work shirt is all covered in snow and tomatoes!”

“Louis!” Harry shrieked, through his laughter, as Louis somehow managed to undo the tie on the back of Harry’s apron with his mitten covered hand and attempted to pull it off over Harry’s head, getting it stuck in his hair at first, but then successfully removing it. “No!” Harry tried to get away, but he was boxed in by two tables, Louis had him cornered.

Louis was cackling madly, “Vegetable hugggggg!!!!” he hollered, as he backed Harry up against one of the tables.  He wrapped his double-coat fattened arms around Harry’s torso and pressed the strange mix of toppings and melting snow into Harry’s body.  Harry was laughing so hard his stomach muscles hurt.  He was helpless to defend himself. He felt weak from the laughter and heady from Louis’s proximity, and even though Louis was covered in disgusting materials, he didn’t want Louis to let him go.  

Louis didn’t seem to want to let Harry go either. He just kept holding on to him, even as their laughter subsided. Their bodies were perpendicular, Louis hugging Harry so that one arm was across his chest, the other across his back, his fingers laced together over Harry’s right bicep. Louis rested his forehead against the side of Harry’s left shoulder as he caught his breath.

“It’s truly horrible out, Harry.” He said, quietly, “We cannot go home.”

“Ok,” Harry sighed. The truth was, he felt relieved.  He didn’t want to leave. Harry wanted to keep being with Louis. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun with someone.  Harry was at work, the weather was horrific, and he was covered in melting snow and old lettuce, trapped overnight in a cramped little sandwich shop with only a loveseat available in terms of comfortable sleeping surfaces, but he knew for sure that there was nowhere else he’d rather be. He had this growing suspicion at the back of his mind that maybe this was the most fun he’d ever had his whole life, but he was trying to ignore it because it made him feel a little scared.  Liking Louis so much was a little scary.

They just stood there in the awkward embrace, listening to the wind howl, breathing in time together, and Harry wanted to turn fully into Louis’s arms and kiss him so badly that his body ached. Louis eased away after a little while, dropping his arms to his sides as if it had become too much to support their weight.  But before Harry’s heart had a chance to sink at the loss of contact, Louis was moving in front of him and peering up at him through his beautiful eyelashes, smiling shyly, his forearms raised up in a silent and adorable request for assistance with mitten removal.

Harry gave a small laugh and bit his lip, gently pulling each of them off and placing them carefully on the table of the booth beside him. When he turned back to Louis, Louis was smiling softly up at him, he raised his eyebrows before glancing down at the bunched up scarves under his chin and then blinking back up at Harry, expectantly. Harry’s heart was in his throat as he unwound them slowly, taking his time and then folding them neatly on the table, hoping his hands weren’t shaking too noticeably. He didn’t need to be prompted to remove Louis’s beanie, tugging it off with a little pop, so that Louis’s caramel colored hair fluffed up pleasingly, even though the edge of his fringe was damp from melted snow. His pulse quickened as he reached for the snaps on Louis’s outer coat, popping them open one by one and then peeling the parka off of him, laughing softly with Louis when he had difficulty with the sleeves.  Louis bit his lip when Harry finally tugged at the zipper of the second coat and Harry’s heartbeat accelerated even more, his skin tingling.  He stared at his hand as it wavered down Louis’s torso, gradually undoing the zip, the trembling in it undeniable now.  He slipped his hands beneath the coat, intending to shuck it from Louis’s shoulders, but as his fingers moved over Louis’s upper arms, Louis took a small sharp breath at the contact and Harry froze, electrified, his blood rushing in his ears.  He swallowed thickly, blinking slowly down at Louis as he closed his hands around Louis’s shoulders under the jacket, his breathing deep, chest heaving. Harry could sense the latent strength of Louis’s muscles as they shifted subtly under his touch, could feel the heat of Louis’s skin through his worn Wickham’s t-shirt, and he felt crazed with longing, intoxicated by it, almost to the point of dizziness.

“Lou,” He whispered after several beats, it came out as half a question, half an almost bewildered complaint.

“Harry, Jesus.” Louis murmured back, breathless. 

And then they were kissing, hot and slick and urgent, Louis’s coat dropping to the floor as Harry crushed their bodies together, his big hands all over Louis’s small, strong back.  Louis absolutely melted into Harry, his fingers quickly buried in Harry’s hair, angling Harry’s head to the side to get a better angle, the kiss deepening, their tongues moving against each other in such a perfect way that the experience of it was almost too sharp in Harry’s heart. It was too much and never ever enough, not nearly enough, all at once. Harry wanted so much more.  

They stumbled through the dining room kissing almost frantically, both of them only semi-aware of their surroundings, bumping into various tables and chairs as they made for the side door that lead to the back of the shop. Harry’s mouth worked down Louis’s neck as they maneuvered awkwardly through the swinging door, slamming it against the wall in their hurry.

“Harry,” Louis murmured happily against his lips as they moved inexorably toward the little sofa next to Marcus’s desk, “Harry, Harry,”

The love seat had no business being there really, it was in a ridiculously narrow alcove that was probably meant for extra shelving. Harry couldn’t even sit down on it without his knees banging into the wall in front of it. Normally, it was the most annoying. Right now, he couldn’t have been more appreciative of its existence if he tried.  He lowered Louis’s body onto the cushions over the armrest, letting him drop a couple of inches and delighting in the way Louis’s hair flounced slightly on impact, at how wonderfully tiny his waist was, and in glint of glittery lust he saw in his eyes. He straightened up to his full height to get a better look and that’s when Louis started laughing softly.  

“What?” Harry asked, his lips quirked into a half smile.

“I—I forgot about the vegetables.” Louis whispered, through his laughter, his eyes moving back and forth between both of their torsos. The bits of tomato and lettuce that Louis had gotten on Harry during his Vegetable Hug Attack were now smushed and smeared all over Harry’s t-shirt and, of course, now on Louis’s too.

“So, so, disgusting.” Louis said, still giggling. And it was, but Harry could not have cared less, he liked it even, liked this completely gross evidence that he and Louis had kissed and their bodies had been pressed together. Louis snorted suddenly and rolled his eyes. 

“What?” Harry asked again, his eyes still moving over Louis’s body.

“Nothing.” Louis said, still rolling his eyes. His cheeks had been faintly pink from all the kissing, but Harry could see that he’d just blushed further. Louis put a hand on his forehead between his eyes, he averted them from Harry as he continued quietly, “S’just that, you know, now our first—first kiss. It’ll always have been right after I screamed out Vegetable Hug like some kind of dork maniac.”

And now Harry was blushing, pleasure and affection sweeping through his whole body, a strange buzzing in his ears from the implication of Louis’s words. Louis must have seen the change in the expression on Harry’s face and fully realized what he had said, because he suddenly looked vulnerable and little unsure, biting his lip as he gazed up at Harry. 

“I mean—I mean, not to assume—,” Louis cleared his throat, “not to assume that—”

“There will be other times?” Harry finished for him, his heart swelling.

“Yeah,” Louis breathed out, voice a little shaky, staring straight up at the ceiling.

“There will be other times.” Harry said, and Louis’s eyes met his immediately.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, smiling down at him, his heart pounding. He started fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, a little bashful. “Don’t you want that?”

Louis nodded, going up on his elbows, “Yeah.” He said, still looking Harry right in the eyes.

“Me too.” Harry said, softly, “I want that too.”

Louis went up on his knees then, scootching forward on them so that all that separated him from Harry was the armrest of the love seat. He brought a hand up to Harry’s cheek, cupping his face and Harry gave a deep, ragged sigh and pressed into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Then Louis kissed him again. This time it was soft and slow and tender but just as perfect and Harry felt an aching happiness building in his bones. Louis slid his hands up and under Harry’s t-shirt and Harry gasped at the sensation, breaking the kiss.  Louis looked at him with a question in his eyes and Harry nodded breathless, his desire making him feel dazed.

“Arms up,” Louis whispered, a little laugh in his voice.  Harry did as he was told, and Louis slowly peeled the shirt off over his head, both of them giggling when he had to pick a piece of lettuce out of Harry’s hair afterward.  But then Louis’s eyes were running all over Harry’s bare upper body, quickly followed by his hands, and Harry completely lost his breath. 

“Jesus, Harry.  You are so hot,” Louis murmured, voice full of wonder, as he trailed his hands from Harry’s shoulders down to his to his wrists, and then up his torso, his mouth at Harry’s neck. “So _fucking_ hot.”

Harry moaned and fisted his hands in Louis t-shirt, gently pushing him back several degrees so he could remove it, feeling his heart stutter as Louis’s warm golden skin was revealed.

“Lou,” He said brokenly, leaning forward and kissing Louis hotly on the mouth, pushing him all the way back down onto the sofa. Harry crawled on after him, slotting his body in between Louis’s legs, his hands deep in the fluff of his hair. He rolled their hips together slowly until they both fully hard, Louis making intermittent noises somewhere between a whimper and keen, each one going right to Harry’s cock.

“Want you so much.” Harry whispered, his ran his fingers along Louis’s waistband and then palmed him through the denim. “ _God_.”

Louis arched up into his touch with a small moan and nodded in agreement, his jaw slack and his eyes blown.  Harry quickly undid Louis’s fly, swallowing wide-eyed as he tugged down Louis’s jeans and freed him from his boxers.  Louis’s eyes fluttered shut and he groaned as Harry’s hand closed around him and started to stroke, using the pre-come that had gathered at the tip as a lubricant.  Harry realized then that he was biting his bottom lip so hard it hurt.    

“Haz,” Louis choked out, “God, Harry,” he whined, pawing at Harry’s jeans, struggling with the zipper, “Want to—want to touch you too.” And he was pushing Harry’s briefs down and encircling Harry’s achingly hard cock with his fingers, matching Harry’s rhythm as he worked him over.

“Fuck,” Harry let out in a breathy groan. “Louis.” He mouthed at Louis’s jawline as they drove each other closer and closer to the edge, “Not going—not going to last,” Harry whispered, feeling the heat coiling at the base of his spine, molten pleasure building in his gut. “So so hot.” Harry whispered, right into Louis’s ear.  And then Louis came with a low moan of Harry’s name, shuddering through it, spilling into Harry hand and onto his own belly. Two more strokes and Harry followed, the exquisite gratification of it slamming through his body.  He collapsed on top of Louis, utterly spent.

They lay like that for a minute, lacing the fingers of one their hands together and breathing deep as they came down from the orgasms.

“See, I knew these vegetable shirts would come in handy,” Louis said, smirking as he picked one up off the floor with his fingertips. He checked to make sure it was inside out and cleaned them both off with it.

Harry snorted, “oh just planning ahead, were you?”

Louis smiled up at him and nodding, the crinkles back at the corner of his eyes, “Precisely, Harry, precisely.”

The love seat wasn’t really big enough for the two of them, but somehow they made it work, Harry curling around Louis from behind, both of their lower legs dangling off to the side, feet grazing the ground.

“Sleep?” Harry asked, his face in Louis’s hair, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and the slight tang of his sweat, feeling completely happy.

“mmhmmm, sleep.” Louis agreed.  They both drifted off within minutes.

 

Harry woke up some time later, brought to consciousness by Louis’s body shivering in his arms.

“Louis?” He croaked, his eyes still glued shut.   

“uh-huh?” Louis said back, Harry could almost hear his teeth chattering.

“We should have made a blanket with some aprons, or something, huh?” Harry said, pulling Louis even closer to him, trying to envelop Louis’s smaller body with his own.  He couldn’t help but enjoy the feel of skin against skin, even though he knew Louis was cold.

Louis gave a wavery little laugh, “um yeah. Also because that would have been easier to do before the power went out.”

Harry’s eyes flew open, “The power is out?” and sure enough, it was completely dark in the back of the shop and they hadn’t turned off the lights before they fell asleep.

“There must be a flashlight around here somewhere, right?” Harry said, rubbing at his eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the darkness.

“Yeah, in the emergency kit. There’s a blanket too. It’s in the closet it the girl’s bathroom.”

“I’ll go get it.” Harry said. 

Louis sat up on the sofa, providing Harry with an exit. “Are you sure?”

Harry shrugged, “It’s not that far.”

Louis laughed through his shivers, affection clear in his voice, “You’re a bit of a klutz with the lights _on_ , Harold.”

Harry made a grumping noise and pinched Louis’s side, happy to be teased, “Do _you_ want to do it?”

He felt Louis shake his head next to him, “No,” he said, “what if it’s even colder out front?”

Harry clambered to his feet, almost pitching forward into the wall in front him right away, and they both started snickering under their breath.

“Shut up.” Harry said, stifling his laughter.  He turned to maneuver out of the nook, using the desk to orient himself, sweeping a foot out in front of him and inching out into the area with the sinks and the freezer.

“Made it to the deep freeze.” He said, triumphantly, about 30 seconds later.

“I’ll make you a special achievement certificate on my computer later,” Louis said, laughing again.  Harry was really very happy.  

He felt around on the hooks on the back of the side door until he found what he was looking for, “Here,” he said, “Put on my hoodie.” tossing it to Louis in the dark.

“Jesus Christ, Harry, I almost got the zipper in my eye,” Louis said, Harry took that as a thank you. He slipped out the door and slowly felt his way to the bathroom, locating the emergency kit and taking out the flashlight and flicking it on.

“Oooo chocolate,” He said, as he surveyed its contents, there were two Hershey bars, like they were in wartime.  There was also a wool blanket, like Louis said, which was good. He stopped by the little closet where Marcus kept the extra shirts, and tugged one on over his head before he returning to Louis.

“I’m baaaaack.” He said, shining the flashlight toward Louis, who shielded his eyes from the beam. Louis was sitting on the edge of the sofa, drowning it Harry’s sweatshirt, his hair sticking up in every direction and it was painfully endearing. “Here you go, sir.” Harry said, wrapping the wool blanket around Louis’s shoulders and handing him a chocolate bar. He plopped down on to the love seat next to Louis, even though he had to angle his legs to the side.

Louis made a little noise of frustration as he struggled with the blanket, clearly trying to reposition it somehow so it was covering both of them, but not succeeding.

Harry started to laugh. “Do you need some help with that?” he could almost hear Louis frowning at him in the dark. Harry had switched off the flashlight to conserve the battery. 

Louis grunted again, toppling into Harry as he continued to yank at the blanket. “Fine,” he said, huffily, “Yes.”

Harry gently tugged the blanket out from behind Louis's back and then draped it over top of them, tucking Louis into his side beneath it. “There.” He said, settling in, feeling around on the couch for where he’d set his candy bar.  He felt Louis smile into his shoulder.

“What?” Harry asked.

“You really are a sweetheart, Harry.” Louis said. Harry would have protested as usual, but he could hear the sincerity and endearment in Louis’s voice, and instead he had to swallow over a lump of emotion.

“Lou,” He whispered, touched.

“Sorry,” Louis said, laughing, a little embarrassed. “Just like you a lot, that’s all.”

“I like you too,” Harry said, closing one of his giant hands over Louis’s smaller one and squeezing. “Have since the beginning.”

“Yeah?” Louis said.

“mmhmmm,”

“Me, too.” Louis said. Louis was tracing the contours of Harry’s face with a finger now, running it over his dimples and down the line of his nose. “Do you trust me?” He asked.

Harry nodded.

“Say on three?” Louis asked.

Harry nodded again.

Louis started the count, “One…Two…Three…

“Paige Morgan,” they said together.


End file.
